alphaghostie

-- "(Y/n), come on! It'll be fun," your best friend, Phil Lester, smiles giddily and leads you to the front steps of the house. "Look, I've been to your house a lot of times before, but.. Not with, like, ten people. I'm not social." "But you don't have to be!" "Who's going to be there, anyways?" "Hmm.. Well, there's Dan, PJ, Chris, Anthony, Kalel, Louise, Zoe, you know, those people." Your heart skips a beat when you hear Dan's name, but you quickly shake it off. "Oh. Are we.. Getting drunk?" "We'll all probably be slightly intoxicated," Phil giggles. "Do I have to go?" You whine. "Yes, pleeease!" After a moment of consideration, yo

“Draco? Are you okay?” You asked anxiously as Draco came bustling back into your compartment. His gray eyes which usually held only hostility looked hurt, and slightly saddened. You were one of Draco’s best friends, having known him since you were both young. You were still young at eleven, but you already knew that you liked Draco in more than a friend way. You also knew that Draco, even though he seemed mean to most, was a real sweetheart and was actually very sensitive. “I tried to warn the new boy, Potter, about hanging with the wrong people. My father always said that purebloods shouldn’t associate with mud

Draco gritted his teeth, aggressively chopping a piece of ginger in an attempt to distract himself. He was getting seriously annoyed. __y/n__, his crush, whom he had no right to be possessive over but was anyway, was talking to Potter. Stupid, annoying, everyone’s-hero Potter. It really shouldn’t have made him as angry as it did; you weren’t dating, you didn’t know of his feelings, you didn’t even talk to each other that often. But still, it did. He wanted to walk right up there, kick Potter out of his chair, and kiss you senseless. Which, in all honesty, was a terrible plan. But his anger was growing and

 The sound of boiling cauldrons and knives slicing ingredients filled the room as students chattered happily with their neighbors. It was one of those rare days in which Professor Snape allowed us to choose our own partners for brewing potions and everyone was ecstatic. The dark dungeon seemed to hum with energy, the lights casting a warm glow over what was usually a cold echoing dungeon. Everyone was cheerful. Everyone, that was, except for my partner and I. Draco and I stood in silence as we moved through our work; the only sounds coming from him were the steady sounds of his breathing and him crushing ingredients into the pot. I was offe